


Silk and Steel

by MegMayhem



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 01:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6590794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegMayhem/pseuds/MegMayhem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knight-Captain Cashmere Callahan was forced into the Brotherhood of Steel at a young age. Instead of falling into their xenophobic ranks, she act as a double agent. Waiting for the opportunity to strike them down for good. </p>
<p>Riker is a pre-war ghoul with a painful past, and a heavy weight on his shoulders, but whether he drinks himself into oblivion or finds someone to share the weight is a decision he will have to make on his own.  </p>
<p>Reagan (previously X9-45) is an ex-courser that has escaped the Institute and travels the Commonwealth on her own terms, but what led her to such a drastic course of action?</p>
<p>Discord is a post-war ghoul, and an ex-raider with a personal vendetta, and synth sidekick named Eris, and they're ready to punch their way through the Commonwealth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She Always Knows How To Make An Entrance

“Mercy!”

Cory’s voice cut through the pounding in Cashmere’s head. Despite the way she was surfing pain-induced waves of nausea, she couldn’t help but chuckle. A weak sound that was scarce an imitation of mirth, before it lapsed into a cough. It turned out to be a terrible idea because it fucking hurt.

“What’s so funny?” the other woman snapped, not on Cashmere’s wavelength as she did her best to help her limp her way back to the Slog. Cashmere was taller, heavier, especially in leaded armor and when she was lucid she would definitely give Cory an A for effort.

“Mercy,” she mumbled. “Seems a bit gratuitous, yeah? It’s not like I’m dying.” Cashmere attempted to lift the arm that wasn’t wrapped around Cory’s shoulders to wipe the blood out of her eyes. Most of her extremities were numb and she wasn’t sure if she accomplished anything.

“You are dying,” Cory replied.

The elongated vowels in Cashmere’s “nah,” did well to express her disagreement.

Cashmere cannot confirm nor deny whether she passed out shortly after that.

⌘

The knight’s eyes fluttered opened when she fell hard onto an uncomfortable cot.

“Cory, what the fuck?” 

Cashmere didn’t recognize the speaker, but they were not happy. She tried and failed to lift herself up on her elbows to see what was going on. She settled for blinking the ceiling back into focus.

“Mercy, I will explain later! I just need you to help her!”

Oh, Mercy was a person. That made more sense than whatever Cashmere had been thinking. Not that she could account for the accuracy of her thinking at the moment. 

Odd nickname, though. 

“Help would be great,” Cashmere croaked, sardonic as always, even when it did her no favors.

Immediately the face of a ghoul she wasn’t acquainted with leaned over her. He encompassed the whole of her vision, almost too close for her to see him in full. That would explain the ‘what the fuck’s, then. What with all the Brotherhood of Steel insignia emblazoned across her combat gear. 

“You’re still awake?” he asked, a tone coated in disbelief as he did something weird to her eyes. Checking for something.

“I’m tough,” she explained. The dryness in her mouth made her sound like a child that was not tough at all.

He disappeared from her sights. The concerned furrow of his brow replaced by Cory’s deep frown. She hardly registered the sensation losing her armor. Too preoccupied with the matron-like expression on her friend’s features.

“I’m hurt,” Cashmere whined, before hissing through her teeth as the medic prodded at the injury. “You can’t scold me when I’m hurt.”

“I can scold you when I damn well please,” Cory bit back.

Cashmere’s pout was gone. Interrupted by what she would imagine molten iron, covered in acid, shoved beneath her rib cage would feel like. She screamed, back arching of the mattress as she writhed.

“What’s wrong?” Cory’s vanished, but Cashmere hardly noticed. Her vision little more than shades of gray between black spots.

“She took a shotgun shell to the fucking abdomen. That’s what wrong.”

Well, at least she wasn’t the only one that used sarcasm as a coping mechanism.

That was a comforting thought for when she died.

⌘

Much to her surprise, Cashmere did not die. 

When she opened her eyes, the ceiling was the same, so if she had moved it had not been far. With a groan she pushed herself up into a sitting position, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The long and the short of it was she felt like shit, but feeling like shit was a hell of a lot better than being dead. She pressed a hand against her left side. The other finger-combed through chestnut hair and she looked around the room. She took note of her gear situated with Cory’s in the corner. The thick bandages wrapped around her stomach. She searched for some sign of how long she had been asleep, but turned up nothing. 

Footsteps sounded around the corner. Green eyes snapped in their direction, and found a visitor in the form of the same ghoul from yesterday?

A week ago? 

She had no way of knowing. 

“You’re awake,” he observed. Hands adjusted the beanie on his head, looking surprised to see her in a conscious state.

“I’m tough,” she replied, without thinking, even though her mouth felt like sandpaper. She was pretty sure she noticed one corner of his mouth curl upwards and that made it kind of worth it. She pushed the thin blanket off of her legs and threw them over the side of the bed.

“You shouldn’t be getting up,” he explained. Authoritative, as he moved closer. She was already standing by the time he was near enough for her to realize how tall he was. 

“I’m fine,” she sang, digging through her armor until she found the pieces she was looking for.

“You have a large hole in your side,” he explained.

“I don’t feel like I have a large hole in my side,” she lied. Her voice muffled from behind the chest plate she was wiggling into.

“That’s-“ he paused, and Cashmere cocked a brow at him when her head reappeared from behind the armor. It didn’t take her long to realize what had distracted him.

“It’s not what you think,” she said matter-of-factly, tightening the straps at her side.

“Cory explained.” The words, forced past clenched teeth, implied to Cashmere than an explanation didn’t make seeing the emblem any easier. A tense silence fell between them.

“Well, thanks for not letting me die,” she said, lifting both her hands in a double thumbs up. A cheesy grin broke across her features. 

He did not return her thumbs up.

This time she had not even gotten him to smile.

Well, bummer.

She dropped her hands, and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m going to go find Cory.” Cashmere was tall enough that he couldn’t stop her before she pressed a kiss to his cheek on whim because he looked like he would be super annoyed by it. 

The the way his frown deepened told her that she had been right. 

“Thanks, doc,” she said. Most of the sarcasm was laughter as she disappeared around the same corner in which he had come.


	2. She's Never Had A Friend Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cashmere isn't good with people, but maybe she will learn to be better at it with some help.

“If you eat any more of those you’re going to get sick.”

Cory turned to look at her, mid-bite and surprised. Like a kid caught in the cookie jar, with a half-eaten mutfruit poised just before her mouth. She wrinkled her nose at Cashmere, and took a too big bite just to prove a point. Cashmere chuckled, regretting it as a dull ache spread through her ribs. She hid the discomfort behind an impish smile and watched as Cory tried to chew her current mouthful. With noticeable effort she swallowed, and cocked a brow at the knight.

“What are you doing out of bed?” she asked, disapproving, wiping juice from her chin with the back of her hand.

Cashmere turned her attention to the pool-turned-tarberry bog. “I've been discharged,” she deadpanned without looking at the other woman. “Mercy said I was as strong as a deathclaw and that the Grim Reaper should be afraid of me.”

“He did not say that,” Cory replied, monotonously, before taking another bite of her snack.

“He did,” Cashmere insisted, but had to hide her widening smile.

Cory laughed, which would only encourage Cashmere to be more incorrigible in the future. “Sit down before you rip your stitches open and your guts fall out.” Cory used the toe of her boot to kick the second chair further away from the table. Cashmere obliged and lowered herself into the seat with. Her pain was little more than a wince, a tightness around the corners of her mouth.

“My guts aren’t going to fall out. It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was awful,” Cory corrected. She separateda mutfruit from her stash and pushedit towards Cashmere. The knight picked it up but didn’t eat it. “You didn’t have to see it. Blood everywhere, ribs poking out. I’m pretty sure I saw your spleen.”

For whatever reason, Cashmere laughed at the gruesome recollection of her near death experience. It was a nervous sound, high-pitched and staccato. Either it was her own poor way of dealing with the potential trauma, or it was because of the ridiculous way Cory was using her hands to describe the scene. 

“No, stop, don’t make me laugh.”

“I can’t even believe you’re laughing.”

When Cashmere glanced back to Cory, she was looking right back at her. Her expression became too serious for this to be a light-hearted conversation. Cashmere felt like a lead weight had dropped into her stomach. 

“Hey,” Cashmere murmured, ducking her head and trying to look cute. Not that her puppy-dog eyes worked on Cory. “I’m fine.”

“You almost died.”

Cashmere paused. There was something in the way the Cory spoke that resonated with genuine concern. It caught her off guard. That was…new. No one had ever spoken to Cashmere in that tone before. Even with all the Brotherhood claimed to be, it was cliquish, and Cashmere didn’t fit in. 

She didn’t know what to say, she could only stare back at Cory, dumbfounded. 

In stunned silence she realized this captain of the Minutemen, this bad ass and strong woman seemed to give a fuck about her. 

The lead in her stomach got heavier.

“Did you carry me here all the way from the quarry?”

An abrupt subject change, yes, good.

So smooth.

So subtle.

Cashmere mentally cringed, but Cory didn’t seem to notice how terrible she was at processing emotions.

“Yup.” Cory looked almost smug, a crooked twist to one corner of her mouth as she popped a tarberry onto her tongue.

“Well, damn. Did you have to eat all the Buffout to do it?”

“Nope.”

“I guess you’re hiding some serious muscles under all those freckles.”

Cory laughed again, which was nice. Cashmere felt bad for making her worry the way she had. Cory smiling was a much better alternative to anything else. The brief tension seemed to dissipate and Cashmere could breathe easier. 

After a few moments of silent eating, Cory waved at someone behind her. Cashmere turned in her chair as best she could to catch a glimpse of a tall ghoul in a dusky poncho waving back at her. She couldn’t make out much else besides the cowboy hat settled atop his head.

“Who’s that?” Cashmere asked, turning back to Cory, both brows had disappeared behind her bangs.

One attractive ghoul was one thing. Two attractive ghouls was a new thing.

“Oh, that’s Avery.”

“He looks like a cowboy.”

“What do you know about cowboys?” Cory challenged, doubtful there was a whole lot to know about them in Boston. Before or after the war. 

“Give me a few hours and I’ll know a whole lot about cowboys. If you catch my meaning.”

Cory snorted. “You better get in line."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cashmere belongs to me (megan-mayhem.tumblr.com)  
> Cory belongs to vectober.tumblr.com  
> Avery belongs to railroad-blues.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Cashmere Callahan belongs to me (megan-mayhem.tumblr.com)  
> Mercy and Cory belong to vectober.tumblr.com


End file.
